


Understanding

by Fenix21



Series: In My Silence 'Verse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avoidance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingering, Frottage, M/M, Sex as a distraction, brother cuddles, handjobs, mute!Sam, sex as a tool of avoidance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix21/pseuds/Fenix21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean begins to understand several things that start to change his world in ways he may not be ready to accept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

April 2000

 

‘We need to talk about this, Sammy.’

It had been over two months since the demon interrogation that John had claimed was so vital to their cause he'd nearly died attempting it but for Sam’s intervention at Dean’s behest—something Dean wondered now if he would ever be able to forgive himself for—and that had revealed a truth about his brother that still made him shudder even in the unseasonable warmth of this April afternoon in northern Pennsylvania.

John had brought them here on the whisper of demon signs, but it seemed word traveled fast among the hell-spawn brotherhood when the Winchester clan was in town, and the whole of the northeastern seaboard was devoid of demons upon their arrival. It didn’t stop John , though, from dropping them in a small, almost pleasant if somewhat ramshackle, cottage on the edge of Amish country and scouring the area until he was red-eyed with exhaustion and surly beyond normal because he’d lost his lead. In an effort to work off the frustration or just because he couldn’t stand to be still for any amount of time when people’s lives might be at stake, he found himself a hunt a state and a half away in Massachusetts. One he had pointedly not asked Dean to accompany him on. 

Which was really no surprise, because Dean was on edge around John now after seeing what Sam could do, what John wanted him to do, and his iron clad loyalty to the man had definitely developed some fissures that had the potential to grow into cracks of a magnitude Dean had neither the ability nor desire to heal. His responsibility had always been to Sammy, and now more than ever, that responsibility was taking center stage. John had always intended his edict of ‘look after your little brother’ to keep Sam safe from the dangers of the dark, but now Dean could see there was an ulterior motive to John's words that had much more to do with obsession than love of his son. Too, John had seemed distant of late in a variety other than his usual brusque detachment from anything not directly related to the hunt. He was almost…wary of Dean, in the way people are wary of a grotesquely disfigured person—slightly amazed and vaguely disgusted. Dean couldn’t quite get his finger on what might have caused it, but he didn’t much care either.

Sam tugged gently on a hank of his hair that had gotten ridiculously long over the last couple of months, which basically meant it was brushing the collar of his shirts now instead of being cropped up close in some semblance of a military cut, and brought his thoughts back around to the bright afternoon sun hanging overhead, filtering down through the newly greening leaves of the maple they had parked themselves beneath an hour or so ago. Sam was leaning back into the ancient, great trunk, nestled between two thick twisting roots like he was settled in an armchair. Dean was stretched out with his head in Sam’s lap, and the hand of Sam’s that hadn’t tugged on his hair was under the hem of Dean’s tee, lazily brushing back and forth through the soft, satin hairs on his belly.

‘Okay,’ Dean amended. ‘ _I_ need to talk about this.’

He tipped his head a little, squinting into a bright shaft of light that fell across his face when a breeze shifted through the leaves overhead, and looked into Sam’s placid face. Beyond Sam encouraging him not to avoid the reality his nightmare had tried to show him, following their interrogation of that demon, he had not pressed Dean in any way to talk about it. Dean slipped his hand under his shirt and took hold of Sam’s, stilling it, twining their fingers together, because he needed that contact. He needed the support of Sam’s touch if he was going to do this, face this thing in his head that had sat back in the shadows for weeks, watching and waiting, patient but persistent. Hell, he’d curl up in the kid’s lap if he thought he could get away with it, but that was probably a little less manly show than Dean could allow himself even if there wasn’t a soul for ten miles in any direction to see them.

Sam threaded his fingers deep in Dean’s hair as if he could sense his brother’s need for physical contact, and he probably could. That thought, too, made Dean shudder a little, that all this time Sam may have been hearing, picking up on, much more than just the words Dean was speaking. He supposed that was okay, because most of the time there was a lot he couldn’t say, didn’t dare, or wouldn’t allow himself to say. Now, though, he fervently hoped it wasn’t true, because he didn’t want Sam to know he was afraid, or what—who—he was afraid of. 

‘You know I love you, Sammy,’ Dean said, staring straight into his hazel eyes made amber and bright gold by the dappled sunlight.

Sam smiled.

Of course, I do.

Dean nodded and allowed himself to look away. ‘Good…good. ‘Cause you gotta know that. No matter what you—’ He paused, backpedaled. ‘It just. It doesn’t matter to me if—’

Sam tapped his chest lightly.

Who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?

Dean scowled up at him for a moment and then sighed. ‘Neither of us. I don’t need convincing.’

There was a light squeeze of fingers in Dean’s hair. 

Good. Neither do I.

‘Sammy, I just…I guess I didn’t really understand. Even after Dad told me.’

Sam rubbed his thumb lightly along Dean’s knuckles. 

Or you didn’t want to.

‘Sammy,’ Dean said sternly, scowling upward.

Sam scowled right back.

You’re no fool, brother. But it wasn’t something you could accept either. That I’m just like the things we hunt and kill.

‘Don’t say that!’ Dean snapped.

Sam flattened his palm warmly against Dean’s stomach, the muscles gone taut and quivering with his outburst.

Dean…

‘No! You’re not—’

Sam lifted his knees and curled forward at the same time, bringing Dean’s face up to his in a single fluid move so that he could kiss him, firmly, almost forcefully. Dean gave an aborted whine of protest deep in his throat before he gave in and pressed up into the kiss, angling his head a little against Sam's thighs to gain more real estate on Sam's soft, warm mouth. They kissed like that, just a tender shifting of lips against lips, for long enough that Dean nearly forgot why he was being so thoroughly kissed in the first place. Sam sighed contentedly after another moment and leaned back, smiling just this side of smug. 

'Dammit, Sammy...' Dean pouted half-heartedly. ''S not fair. You're cheatin' with a move like that.'

Sam smiled bigger.

Get's you to listen.

'Listen to what?' Dean shot back, anger still stinging under his skin. 'You ain't talkin'.'

Sam flinched almost imperceptibly and leaned back into the tree trunk again. His hand loosened around Dean's and slid from under his shirt. Dean chased it to his shoulder, grabbed it and squeezed hard.

''M sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean…I didn't mean it.' He paused and looked up, blinking into the bright light, blaming it for the wetness in his eyes. 'Does it…? Is why you won't talk got something to do with…all this?'

A frown pulled at the corners of Sam's mouth while he considered. His thumb absently traced over Dean's knuckles.

Yes, I think?

Dean pulled their linked hands back to his chest, held them over his heart. 'How?'

Sam shook his head. 

I don't know. 

He frowned harder and stared down at their hands.

I'm afraid to. Like, if I do, then something will happen…something that can't be undone.

Dean rolled onto his side so he could look up into Sam's downturned face, see clearly the sheen of tears in his shadowed eyes.

'You aren't evil, Sam,' he said firmly. 'I don't care what kinda blood you've got in your veins, or what it makes you able to do, but you _aren't_ evil.' He reached up to take hold of Sam's chin. 'You listenin'?'

Sam nodded slowly.

Yes, Dean.

But Dean wasn't convinced. He sat all the way up, leaned in, hand hooking around the back of Sam's neck and giving him a little shake. 'Sammy?'

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and curled inward.

Is it all I'm good for? Am I just what Dad says I am? Just a weapon?

'Fucking hell…' Dean whispered viciously and dragged Sam into his arms, wrapping him up and holding him tight. 'Don't you ever think that. Dad is an asshole, and you are so much more than that, Sam. So much more.'

Sam trembled a little and reached slowly around Dean's waist and pulled him in close.

Don't leave me.

Dean swore harshly again and buried his nose in Sam's hair. 'Never gonna happen. Not in a million years. You're stuck with me 'till you die, and if I go first, I'm stickin' around to haunt your ass.'

Sam huffed a strained breath that might have been close to a laugh.

Not if I salt and burn yours first.

Dean leaned back enough to look Sam in the face, his own deadly serious instead of smiling at the joke as Sam had meant him to. 'Wouldn't matter, Sammy.' Dean pushed a hand into Sam's silken waves and pulled him in so his next words were whispered into Sam's mouth, past his barely parted lips. 'I'm bound to you. Forever and ever. Kill me, salt me, burn me. My soul belongs to you and you're exactly where it's stayin'.' Sam sucked in a shocked breath and Dean pushed on. 'And if that means I follow you down to—to hell, or wherever, then so be it. Where you go I go, Sam, and that's all there is to it.'

Sam covered the breath's distance between them and kissed his brother hard and deep, needy, licking open his mouth and then into it, taking and taking until they could both barely breathe. 

It solved nothing. The idea born in bad dreams still waited in the shadows, though Dean could see the shape of it now, and it didn't scare him any the less for knowing—more in fact, maybe—but it would wait for another time.

Dean pulled away a fraction. 'This was supposed to be about me, bitch.'

Sam smiled and tipped his head back, sunlight splashing across his face.

Sorry, jerk. Always stealing your limelight, aren't I?

Dean smiled in return and swung a leg over Sam's skinny thighs, knees digging into the dirt and rough bark of the tree roots. 'Could make you pay for it, you know…'

Sam put his hands on the tops of Dean's thighs, traced the inseam of his jeans with his thumbs up to the join of his hip, flicked them over his straining crotch. Dean gave a low groan and shoved his hands down to grab Sam's ass and lift him, fitting the full bulges in their jeans side by side, and then rocking slow and hard. Sam hissed a breath, tongue between his teeth, pushing upward, trying to meet and make more friction. 

'God, Sammy…you feel good. So good, just like this,' Dean murmured.

Sam answered by leaning up and mouthing at Dean's nipple through his t-shirt, soaking through the thin cotton, working it with his tongue and then nipping sharply so that Dean growled deep in his chest and thrust forward. Sam gave the other nipple the same treatment, then moved his hands, yanking hungrily at Dean's shirt until he had it up and could bite into bare skin. Dean tossed his head back and ground down against Sam's erection.

'You damn tease…'

Sam's hot breath puffed across Dean's chest. Another silent laugh. His hands fell to Dean's waistband, thumb expertly flicking open the button and sliding down the zipper.

'Sam…'

Sam dipped his hand in under denim and cotton and cradled Dean's hot, hard cock in his palm. Dean's breath punched out of him, and he rocked into it.

'Sammy…'

Dean's fingers curled and dug into Sam's ass, jerking him closer, and Sam wrapped a hand around Dean's hip to steady his shocky rhythm while he stroked his brother's hard length, palm getting slick and wet with his come. Dean moaned his name and lost his grip as Sam's fingers found and fondled his balls, pulling at them gently at the same time he rolled his wet palm across Dean's velvet-soft, swollen head. Dean tipped forward, hands going up to brace himself against the tree behind Sam's shoulders while his little brother continued to stroke him.

Sam took advantage of the new space between them and sat forward, sliding the hand on Dean's hip back and down, finding the hot, sweat-slick crevasse between his buttocks and pushed his fingers down to rub insistently against his clenching hole.

'Christ! Sam…' Dean gasped and arched back, pushing toward that seeking finger, begging it to breach him. Sam obliged him, pushing in and up and crooking his finger just right until Dean was panting for breath, cock leaking in a thin, steady stream across Sam's palm, slicking his fingers as he stroked his brother strong and steady.

'Oh, Sam…Sammy. Sam!' 

Dean felt the world sliding sideways, dipping and turning opposite its axis as Sam worked him in the front and back to an ever increasing rhythm that was spiraling him up and up to a place where he couldn't breathe and didn't need air anyway and his vision was splintering into bright shards that were all the color of Sam's eyes. 

He was coming before he knew it, hips locked, body shaking and twitching, fingernails chipping into the dry bark of the tree. Sam's hands were still on him and in him, stroking gently now, nursing him slowly back to earth through the twitchy little aftershocks that zipped and zinged across his raw nerve endings like a slowly dying current. 

Dean dropped back on his haunches, pinning Sam's knees to the ground, arms dropping to slide around Sam's shoulders and hold him while he tried to remember that breathing was a necessary and vital thing. He felt Sam smiling into his shoulder as he withdrew his hands and stroked down Dean's back.

Better?

Dean rocked his head against Sam's shoulder. 'You just distracted me again.'

Sam nodded, no subterfuge this time. Dean slid to the side, tugging at his pants a little, but too tired to do them up. He noticed the dark stain across the crotch of Sam's jeans and lifted an eyebrow as he dropped back into the cradle of one the tree roots.

Sam blushed a little.

If you had any idea how amazing you look when you come…it's like…heaven and Christmas and apple pie all in one.

Dean grinned. 'You had me at apple pie.'

Sam grinned back and turned into Dean's open arms, stretching out along his body, wedging a knee between his thighs and reaching an arm around his waist so that they were well and truly tangled together. Sam sighed and closed his eyes. 

The sun had moved overhead and was slanting more gold now through the rippling canopy of leaves above them. The breeze caressed them and cooled them, and lulled them both into a doze. 

Dean felt the light on his skin and kept it with him behind his closed eyes, kept the vision of Sam's eyes all honey dark flecked with spring-fresh green and sunflower, limned in the pale blue of a summer sky. The shadows gave way and receded in his mind, and he allowed himself to drift, if not to dream, in the idea that he could keep that vision; he could hold the light for both of them and keep the dark at bay forever.


End file.
